Progeny
by Kilrez
Summary: Michael was quite possibly the only person in the intelligence industry to have a baby-seat in the back of his surveillance vehicle.
1. Chapter 1

**Progeny**

It's been heavy and humid here for a couple of days. This morning it finally broke in torrential downpour, so I went out and danced around a bit then decided it was time to post fic. When it rains around here, it's probably time to post fic.

This is the sequel to Multiplication, because I'm still in a state of disbelief at the number of reviews that story got. For those of you that haven't read Multiplication- Michael and Fiona procreated. Aren't summaries fun.

* * *

Fiona reclined against the pillows of the hospital bed watching Michael get to know his son. When the police had finally done their sting on the docks district they'd been astounded to find the two of them with a new born baby hiding behind some packing crates in a warehouse. It had required a certain amount of fast talking on Michael's behalf to get taken to hospital alongside Fi rather than into custody for questioning.

'Holy moly, Mike. You're a dad.'

Michael looked up in alarm at Sam's abrupt entrance but he relaxed as soon as he saw who it was. 'Sam. Say hi to Theo.'

Sam grinned dopily and walked closer to inspect the blue-eyed baby. 'He's gorgeous, Mike. Fi. Can I hold him?'

'No,' Fi stated flatly.

Michael raised his eyebrows at her, cradling his son against his chest. Sam shot him an appealing look and he just shrugged. 'She's the boss,' Michael pointed out. Sam chortled at that.

'Fair enough. I sure wouldn't wanna be the person that go on the wrong side of you, little guy. Gotta tell you though Fi- I'm gonna miss the waddle.'

'Hit him, Michael,' ordered Fi regally.

'I'm not going to hit Sam, Fi,' Michael told her with a sigh.

'Why not?' she pouted.

'Because Sam has had a chat to some of his buddies in the police force and they're going to quietly ignore the weirdest thing ever to come out of a sting operation,' Sam suggested.

'Hey, who're you calling weird?' Michael challenged jokingly, holding Theo a little closer.

'Aw, I'm just kidding Mike. He's beautiful. I think I'm gonna skedaddle before your mom gets in here though.'

Michael's eyes widened as he registered his mother bearing down on the hospital room. With a groan, he handed Theo back to Fiona and braced himself. 'Thanks for the warning Sam. I'll see you later.'

'Count on it, buddy.'

**oo00OO00oo**

'Michael, relax. You have a beautiful son. Being a good father is as simple as being there for him. And for Fiona,' added Madeline pointedly.

'It's not that simple, Mom. Dad was there. It would've been better if he wasn't a lot of the time.'

'Your father never really… he never had this moment of panic that you're having now. But you- you're thinking about your family. That's why you'll do OK.'

Michael nodded and tightened the last screw back on the broken toaster. 'You make it sound easy.'

'It is easy, Michael. If the love is there, everything else will follow.'

'Including diapers?' asked Michael ruefully.

'Including diapers,' answered Madeline with a wide smile. 'Now you better get home before Fiona accuses me of stealing you from her.'

'We're not together, Mom,' Michael reminded her, for what had to be the thousandth time.

'Oh I know, I know. I still think you should give it another shot. I want my grandson raised properly.'

Michael sighed, nodded, and beat a graceful retreat. It seemed every appliance in his mother's house had found a way to break over the past week, and each visit to act as handyman resulted in an hour long _talk_ about his new son.

Theo and Fiona had come home from the hospital two days ago. Since then, Michael had been waiting on them hand and foot. He barely let Fi get out of bed. She was starting to get bored of the mother-hen act, but Michael intended to keep it up as long as she let him. Having witnessed the birth first-hand, he felt it was the least he could do.

When he got home, Fiona was curled up asleep, half-tangled in the sheet. All the violence went out of her in sleep. Smiling fondly, Michael gently straightened out the beddings, careful not to wake her. That done, he went to check on Theo.

The little wooden cot had been hastily erected whilst Fiona was still in hospital. Although they'd known the baby was coming for nearly nine months, somehow it hadn't seemed real; even with Fiona's enormous belly. Now, contemplating what they were going to do when Theo started to crawl seemed too far in the future to contemplate. Michael didn't even want to _think _about Madeline's not-so-subtle proddings on the issue of buying a house together.

Theo was awake- his wide blue eyes staring muzzily up at Michael. They'd discovered early on that Theo was a particularly quiet baby. He hadn't cried when he was born, and did so rarely since then. The middle of the night awakenings were nothing new for a spy, and as soon as his belly was refilled with milk, Theo was content to be put back down. The nights when the club below filled the air with heavy bass thumping actually seemed to make him sleep _better._ 'It's like a heartbeat,' Fi had explained.

Unable to help the small smile that tugged at his lips, Michael reached down and picked him up. He had absolutely no idea when it came to babies. In the past, he'd panicked whenever one was shoved in his direction. Yet somehow, his own flesh and blood made it different. The way his heart melted when those blue eyes locked on him seemed to come as part of the fatherhood package. His reputation was almost certainly going to suffer for this.

Holding Theo carefully, Michael began a slow stroll back and forth. He'd learnt from Madeline that repetitive motion seemed to calm babies. Not that Theo needed calming, but Michael enjoyed just holding his son. Soon enough, the blue eyes fluttered closed and the mouth opened slightly as the child sunk into sleep. Michael put him back down in his cot and moved over to the kitchen to start cooking dinner.

The smell of stir-fry woke Fiona half an hour later and she sauntered into the kitchen to poke her nose into what Michael was doing. He grinned over his shoulder at her and allowed her to sneak a piece of capsicum out of the wok. 'Sleep well?' he asked.

'Mmm, beautifully. There's something about that bed, Michael.'

'It came with the place.' He shrugged it off and added some pepper to the mix.

'Good deal then.' She smacked him on the arse before sashaying over to check on Theo. Michael blinked in surprise. Her words hadn't just been about beds. But surely… he shook his head and concentrated on making sure the stir-fry didn't burn. He wasn't going to risk the comfortable friendship they had now by pushing for something more.

**oo00OO00oo**

'I'm moving out, Michael,' Fiona informed him almost off-handedly as she chopped a carrot into thick chunks.

Michael stopped what he was doing to look at her. After a moment she elaborated. 'This was never meant to be permanent. Theo needs a nursery. And a place closer to a daycare centre would be nice.'

Michael thought for a moment although mental churning would probably have been a more appropriate descriptor. His face as always remained unreadably blank. 'OK,' he said. Fi nodded like that was all decided and started on the next carrot.

* * *

TBC (Because Fiona _has_ to make life difficult).


	2. Chapter 2

**Progeny**

Being nationally disadvantaged, I lack any recent developments on Carla and indeed, the show in general. So, please forgive any cannon errors. Thanks to Seraphina Moon, pie108 ('fraid so?), alysbabe (writing on), scubagurl22 and Kensei Takezo. I greatly appreciate the words of encouragement.

* * *

Fi being Fi, she found a place within a week and moved out within a day of that. Not that she had much stuff to take with her. She'd never carried much with her that wasn't munitions-related, and now more than half her possessions seemed to be things for Theo.

That afternoon Sam found himself with grim and silent company at the bar. 'Not to be impolite here my friend, but I can't help noticing that you seem a little down.' He signalled the bartender for another round and swivelled on his stool to face Michael more directly. Sam knew how to do this. He hadn't even broached the subject until the fifth drink, although Michael still seemed stone-cold sober. Still, the act of drinking could be as important as the drunkenness sometimes.

'Fi moved out,' said Michael flatly.

'Ah,' said Sam. The reason behind Michael's mood was suddenly perfectly clear. 'You know she's just doing it to test you right?'

'I know,' replied Michael.

Sam scratched his beard and took another sip of his drink. 'Then what's the problem?'

Michael sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. It was a rare break in his stonewall face that told of the strain on him. 'Because we've tried being together and it doesn't work. Living together, maybe. Just not… all the other stuff.'

'Mikey…' Sam stopped for a moment to smother his grin and hide the exasperation in his voice. 'I think you're getting it all wrong my friend.'

'You always do, Sam.' That said, the dour man slapped two twenties on the bar and wove off into the crowd. Sam rolled his eyes and decided it might be better not to follow for the moment. The obstacles in Michael's head were clearly far greater than any solid problems and he just wasn't ready to hear it yet.

**oo00OO00oo**

'Michael, I need you to come take care of Theo for a few hours. I've got a date.'

Michael realised he was gripping the phone hard enough to crack the plastic and consciously relaxed his hand. 'OK,' he said. He hung up and carefully placed the phone down on the bench. Face blank, he looked around the empty loft. He'd been here over 18 months now, and he still didn't have any real furniture to speak of. He kept it that way as a reminder that he wasn't intending on staying. Now though, it just felt cold and empty, even in the humid Miami heat. With a heavy heart he jogged down the steps, heading over to Fi's new pad.

Fiona was already dressed up by the time he made it over there and rushing about the small flat, fetching things to shove in her purse.

Michael walked through the open front door and watched in silence for a couple of moments. 'You really need a 9mm? Who is this guy?'

'Better to be safe than sorry,' said Fi primly. 'Theo's in his cot. Take him down the beach or something. Make sure he wears sunscreen.' _Translation: my date doesn't know I've got a kid._

Michael obediently went to fetch his son from the little room that Fi had set up as a nursery. He had to give her credit- she'd done a wonderful job of decorating. Her only response to his impressed eye-brow raise had been to point out that women had many natural skills that were lacking in men.

Michael quickly packed a small bag with a bottle and a couple of nappies. You never knew how long Fiona would stay out for. _Especially if the date goes well,_ he thought sourly. With the bag slung over one shoulder, he gently lifted Theo out of the cot. The baby opened his eyes and let out a small gurgle like he was about to cry. Michael bounced him up and down a couple of times, murmuring soothingly to him. He concentrated on Theo as he walked back through the neatly domestic flat so he wouldn't have to look at Fi and think how beautiful she looked up, all dressed up to go out with someone else.

'Call me if anything happens,' she called out as he stepped out the door. Michael nodded even though she couldn't see him and kept on walking out to his car. He was quite possibly the only person in the intelligence industry to have a baby-seat in the back of his charger, but he honestly didn't care. He couldn't believe how happy it was making him to have a kid. Especially when not everything was going right with said kid's mother.

Michael took Fiona's suggestion and headed down the beach with Theo. It was a mild day, but the sunshine was beautiful. He left his jacket in the car and carried Theo in his arms, deciding to go for a nice long walk along the beach front. People watching was always a good way to keep the mind off things rather left un-thought-of.

As he walked, he couldn't help noticing the above average number of women giving him looks now he was walking with a baby. He couldn't work it out until a few came up to coo over Theo. Theo blinked at them with his unfocused blue eyes and they melted. Rather loudly. Grimacing, Michael extracted himself and walked on.

A few hours passed lost in his gloomy fog barely noticed. With Theo asleep in his arms, he headed back to Fiona's little flat. Before he got out of the car, he paused for a second, thinking. Then he reached over and opened the glove box. He told himself he was just being cautious. Who knew what Fiona's _date _was like? At least, that's what he told himself. The handgun tucked into the back of his pants stacked the situation more solidly in his favour. Whatever shmuck Fiona had just sat through a long and boring dinner with, he probably sure as hell didn't know his way around a weapon. If the guy was still hanging around, perhaps a bit of glaring and subtle flashing of the metal would drive him off.

Bag over one shoulder and baby over the other, Michael entered the apartment building. His eyes flickered over the lobby. Something felt off. Something showed itself as soon as he stepped through Fi's open door.

'_Hello_ Michael. You took your time. Fiona was starting to get impatient.'

Michael took in Carla, standing in Fiona's kitchenette. He took in what he could see of Fiona, tied up across the room, gag in mouth and eyes flashing angrily. She was still dressed up, so it looked like Carla had ambushed her before she'd gotten to leave. Despite himself, Michael was a little impressed that Carla had managed to take Fi. It was something that even he had difficulty with.

While part of him scanned the situation, the other half was acting instinctively. He dropped the baby-bag off his shoulder, reached around behind him and pulled out the handgun he had tucked in his pants mere moments before. Carla caught the action and frowned disapprovingly. 'Now, Michael-'

She was cut off abruptly as he shot her in the shoulder. The next two shots splintered into Fiona's pantry door, because Carla dropped smartly behind the bench. She clearly hadn't expected him to just start shooting.

'Michael, put the damn gun down,' she snapped from behind the bench. It was the first time he'd ever heard her so much as ruffled.

The loud gunshots so close had startled Theo awake and he began to cry, rapidly working his lungs up to full-blown wails. Michael jiggled him up and down on his hip, never shifting his rigid aim at where Carla had disappeared. 'I don't care what you want. I don't care why you're here. Get out. Never come back. I don't want to see you ever again.'

'Michael, be reasonable-'

This time she was cut off by Michael, rather than his weapon. He wasn't in the mood to listen to her honeyed, coaxing lies. He'd been sick of her for a long time. He'd only just come to the realisation that she no longer had anything he wanted. 'I told you to stay away from my family. Reasonable isn't an option here.'

'I'm the only person that can revoke your burn notice,' she reminded him curtly. The strain of pain was evident in her voice. He guessed he'd missed the brachial artery, but it was hard to be sure.

'Come out of there and leave, and I won't shoot you again,' he replied calmly over Theo's bawling cries. There was a long moment, then her hands appeared over the top of the counter. Michael stepped to one side so he could follow her with the gun as she scowlingly walked past him to the door. 'You're making a mistake,' was the last thing she said. Michael motioned with the barrel of the gun and she left.

Walking cautiously towards the door, he ensured she was really gone before putting the gun down on the entrance table and shutting and locking the door. That done, he began to make a proper effort to calm Theo, bouncing him and murmuring as he walked slowly over to where Fi was glaring daggers at him.

Theo began to quiet, cries decreasing in force until he was just letting out little hiccupping sobs. Michael had an idea and walked him into his nursery, where a dummy waited on the nightstand. Once that was inserted and Theo was laid down on his cot, silence was had.

Michael let out a long breath and went to deal with Fi.

Fi had been bound by thin nylon ropes- the sort that really hurt when you struggled and in which knots became impossible to untie. Michael snagged a knife out of the kitchen and squatted down in front of her. Her eyes conveyed enough fury that he was almost afraid to untie the gag. Still, Fi's fire had always made things more interesting than terrifying, on balance.

'You had to shoot my cupboard?' was the first thing she snapped when he freed her mouth. 'And that witch of yours bled all over my carpet. And Theo! You let off a gun right next to his head.' She sounded genuinely infuriated. Michael kept silent and dutifully worked at the rope. He held it away from her skin and drew the knife evenly across the fibres, careful not to cut her.

'You should have killed her,' Fi continued. 'She'll only be back, with more cronies, until you do her bidding.'

'No she won't,' Michael informed her calmly.

'Oh? And why's that?' snarked Fi, wriggling one hand free from the loosening ropes and half-slapping him on the shoulder.

'Because she knows I'm not going to work for her any more. Sam got some information on her last week. I'll let her know- next time she comes near you or Theo… or mom or Nate or Sam; the information goes on the market.'

That finally seemed to calm Fiona, and she looked at him piercingly as he freed the last ropes. 'She probably really is your only chance of getting rid of your burn notice you know.'

'I know,' was all he replied. And he did. He'd read her dossier now.

Fi reached out a small hand and laid it on her cheek. 'Thank you, Michael,' she said, her voice genuine. He nodded, eyes masked, and pushed himself to his feet. 'Theo's in his cot. I gotta go.' If his retreat was somewhat hastier then usual, Fi thankfully didn't comment.

* * *

TBC (because Michael's an idiot).


	3. Chapter 3

**Progeny Chapter 3**

Um, here's another chapter. Can't quite believe what the hit counter is telling me, but people are reading it, I guess? My heart and soul go to bananas.eat.grapes (you made me blush and put my pillow over my head), Scubagurl (same or different to Scubagurl22?), and Kensei Takezo (you're most welcome). Thank you all so much.

* * *

The next time Fiona saw Michael was three days later. It was unusually long for him not to have found an excuse to see Theo, but Theo had been fussy and grumpy in the heat and she'd been too distracted to bother checking up on the baby's father.

The alarm system she'd set up on the entranceway buzzed, and she paused what she was doing to glance out the window. Someone had just entered the lobby of the building. Warily, she extracted a handgun strapped to the side of the fridge and moved to stand just inside the door. Carla's little stunt had made her realise she'd gotten too relaxed, living in Miami. A few quick modifications, IRA-style, and she'd made a repeat performance highly unlikely.

Fiona checked her watch and frowned. Her apartment was on the ground floor and whoever it was; they were taking far too long to get to the front door. Impatiently, she pulled the door open and did a quick sweep of the corridor with her gun. The only person out there was Michael. He was staggering along, half-holding onto the wall to keep himself upright. Fiona let out an exasperated sigh and put her gun on the entrance table before going to help him in.

'What have you done?' she clucked, pulling his right arm across her shoulders and taking the place of the wall. She could see he was carrying his left arm against his stomach, guarded against contact.

'Ricochet,' muttered Michael. He had that smile on his face that had nothing to do with humour. 'Think one stopped in my shoulder blade.'

'One?' repeated Fiona, her voice rising. 'How many bullets do you have in you?' she growled. She sat him down on her armchair and crossed her arms over her chest. He squinted up at her, faint sheen of sweat on his skin. Fiona could easily recognise the pain in his eyes.

'Some?' tried Michael. Fiona sighed in irritation and went to ready the instruments she'd need. On the way past, she dug a full bottle of whiskey out of the cupboard. It was the cheap stuff- she kept it in case she needed a quick Molotov. It would do the trick.

By the time she'd sharpened and sterilised a knife and filled a bowl with hot water, Michael had closed his eyes and leaned back as though sleeping. She checked the bottle she'd handed him and found it barely touched.

'Michael, wake up,' she snapped. He opened his eyes, muscles tensing. When he focused on her, he relaxed. His eyes flicked to the knife in her hand and he grimaced, just a little.

'Up,' she ordered. With only one false start, he lumbered up to lie belly-down on top of the sheet she'd spread over the couch. She'd really rather he didn't put blood all over her rented furniture. The stagger in his step made her wonder how much he'd already lost.

Fetching a mug, she filled it half way with the amber spirits and held it to his lips. 'Drink this, or the bullets stay in,' she threatened. He grumbled, but took an obedient sip. In one smooth motion, she cut his blood-stained shirt off. And hissed through her teeth. 'What were they, hollowpoints?'

'Don't think so,' replied Michael with a small cough as the spirits went down.

Fiona wet a napkin with some more of the cheap whiskey and began gently swabbing over the first of the bullet holes. There was one over his shoulder-blade, one through the muscle of his upper arm, and one that must've been stopped by his collarbone. His left shoulder had clearly been exposed, to wherever the 'ricochets' were coming from. A tide-mark of blood had soaked nearly to the hem of his t-shirt and the highest bullet-hole was still oozing.

'What were you doing?' she asked conversationally as she waited for him to take the last swallow of whiskey.

'Just a simple job,' he answered, grimacing at the taste and putting the mug down. 'That stuff is really awful.'

'Don't change the subject,' she told him curtly. With a practiced motion, she used the tip of the knife to widen the wound. The skin around the entry point was bruised and ragged, and fresh blood oozed out when she made the cut. Michael made a small grunt, but then was silent. Concentrating on her work, it wasn't long before she found the little piece of metal, deep to the muscle, hard against his scapula. Holding it up to the sunlight streaming through the living-room window, she examined the bloody lead.

'Not a hollowpoint. Soft lead. Small calibre. Too deep for a ricochet though.'

Michael merely grunted in answer. Fiona narrowed her eyes at his back. Some more whiskey sloshed in the wound made him suck in a breath through his teeth, and she moved on to the next hole.

The next bullet was harder to get to, and took a fair bit more digging. When Michael's breathing got too broken, she stopped and poured him some more alcohol. He gulped it down quickly and nodded. 'Stop tensing,' she ordered.

'Sorry,' he replied, making a visible effort to relax his back muscles. Fiona hummed in acknowledgement and went in after the bullet against the back of his clavicle. It was sitting in a score of the bone when she found it. She took out the bone chip too and placed it next to the bullet in the bowl.

The third projectile had travelled straight through his upper arm. Fiona cleaned the wound, then dressed all three. 'All done,' she told him.

'Thanks,' slurred Michael into the couch cushions.

'I hope you took care of the guys that did this, because anyone that bursts in here is going to get new ventilation holes.'

'They're good,' Michael replied. His voice was slow and thick. She considered rolling him over so he didn't smother then went for half-way and propped him up on his right side against some pillows. Despite the warmness of the day, she fetched a blanket from her bedroom and covered him up. She recognised the signs of mild physiological shock.

Michael opened his eyes briefly as the blanket was laid down and fixed on her. 'Thanks, Fi,' he murmured softly. His eyes sunk closed again and he seemed to fall straight to sleep. Pursing her lips, Fi cleaned up the mess of blood and utensils then went to fetch her phone.

'Yah, this is Sam,' came the cheery answer after two rings.

'Sam, did you know Michael was out on a job?' Fiona asked sharply.

'Oh, hey Fi.' Sam gave an uneasy chuckle. That was all the answer she needed really, but she pressed for one any way.

'What was he doing? And why didn't you tell me?'

'He didn't think he needed help on this one. It was just a teenage gang causing a bit of trouble for a coupla young kids on their way to school every morning. Easy money, you know.'

'So why is he lying on my couch putting blood stains everywhere?' she snapped.

'He is? Oh geez. Is he OK?'

'He's fine,' she assured Sam, voice softening. She glanced over at Michael, fast asleep on the couch, and smiled a little. She kind of liked having him sleeping there.

'Sorry we didn't tell you Fi. Michael didn't want to bother you with this. Thought you had enough on your plate already.'

'It's 2008, Sam,' growled Fi. 'Women can have babies _and_ a life you know.'

Sam agreed and apologised profusely. 'Like I told him, Fi, we should've let you know about it. Listen… can I come round? Make sure he's OK?'

'He's sleeping at the moment,' Fiona informed him curtly. 'He'll call you later.' She hung up and glared at the phone for a moment. The nerve of those two, going off on their own like some sort of boys club.

Annoyed at both of them, for being so chauvinistic, and at Michael, for getting himself shot, and at Carla, for breaking into her house, and the world in general for being so annoying, she decided that now might be a good time to clean her gun collection. That always had a soothing effect on her. It'd be several hours until Michael slept off the booze so she could berate him properly anyway.

* * *

TBC ('Cos dem bullets are soft lead Mal! Even Vera could barely breach hull, and she's d'best I got.')


	4. Chapter 4

**Progeny- Chapter 4**

Okay, mini chapter so people know I haven't given up. I'm getting a bit disheartened with the whole thing really. Lots of people are putting it on their alerts, and it's getting 200 odd hits a day, but no one (save for 4 very kind people) really wants to review, which is the only reason I post stuff up here. Concrit? Please? Someone? Anyone?

* * *

When Michael blinked his eyes groggily open, the first thing he saw was the glass of water sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He stared at it for several moments, then freed his right arm from under himself and reached out to grab it. His mouth felt dry and sticky, and his head was both pounding and spinning. He wasn't sure what was hangover and what was blood loss. Sometimes they were hard to tell apart. The water helped, anyway.

He put the glass down, whereupon it occurred to wonder where the hell he was. A couch, which was a positive start. Not so good as a bed, but a floor could mean all sorts of bad things. Then he heard a baby gurgle and it all clicked home.

'Fi?' he asked woozily.

'Yes Michael?' came the crisp answer. Her voice allowed him to pinpoint her. She was sitting in the armchair, Theo in her lap waving his arms around happily.

He didn't actually have anything to say. He'd just been checking. He pushed himself up right and braced for a moment whilst the world span. Fi was concentrating on Theo and not looking at him. He spent a moment watching her. She was angry at him. Probably fair enough. It was never pleasant having to dig bullets out of someone else's back when they'd dropped by unannounced.

'You called Sam?' he asked, although he already knew the answer. He was really asking if she knew the story.

'Not sure how you managed to get so much lead in you from a teenage gang,' she replied, her voice bordering on disdainful.

Michael grimaced. 'They were the recruiting pool for a larger, better-armed gang.'

'Have you dealt with them?' asked Fiona sharply.

'Their mentors have dealt with them,' he told her dryly. 'They found out that the kids were stirring up trouble with the cops by terrorising the locals and laid down some discipline.'

'Good,' said Fiona smugly. She smiled at Theo and tickled his toes. 'Tha's good, isn't it bubbie.'

Michael thought that baby-talk from Fiona was possibly the most surreal thing he'd ever seen. 'Can I hold him?' he asked.

'Are you still drunk?' asked Fiona suspiciously.

Michael sighed in exasperation. '_You_ gave me the alcohol.'

'And?' Fi asked sweetly, dismissing the protest.

Michael narrowed his eyes at her. She met his gaze openly, cocking her head slightly on one side. 'No, I'm not drunk,' Michael gave in, tone deliberate.

She nodded in satisfaction and stood to hand him the baby. Michael smiled at his offspring's surprised-looking stare. Theo had started focusing on faces and objects. He did seem to spend a lot of his time looking vaguely dazed by life though.

'Hey buddy,' said Michael softly. 'Always remember to count the cover as well as the exits. And work out how big a hole is before you dive into it. Oh, and wear a vest if there's going to be gunfire…'

Fiona listened to the low chatter for a while then went and got the phone. 'He's up. You can come over if you like,' she informed Sam graciously.

'Cheers, Fi. I'll be round in a tick.'

Sam must've been waiting for the call, because he was knocking on the door in under five minutes. Michael glanced up then went back to playing peek-a-boo with Theo. Fiona rolled her eyes at him and went to let Sam in.

'Hey buddy,' Sam greeted him loudly on entrance. 'Fi says you let yourself get shot up.'

'I'm fine, Sam,' Michael told him dryly, sitting Theo up and steadying him on his knees. He was really only using his right arm to hold the baby, and he knew Sam could see the dressing on his shoulder. 'Fine' meant 'leave it alone.'

'Sure you are. Too hot to wear a shirt anyway,' Sam joked.

'So,' started Fi, her tone like the faint ripple in a river that indicates the sharp rocks an inch below the surface. Michael and Sam met each others' eyes and a wince was shared between them.

'Look, Fi,' started Sam, his tone beguiling. 'We should've told you we were doing a job.'

'Yes. You should have,' she agreed, her voice pointed.

'What would you have done?' asked Michael, relying on the fact that he was holding Theo to keep her from hitting him.

'I would have come along,' she told him simply.

'And Theo?' he questioned, meeting her eyes steadily.

'We can get a babysitter,' Fi said.

'Oh, hey, you're at the letting other people touch him stage?' Sam asked, sounding indignant. Fi had yet to let anyone else but Michael so much as hold Theo. With another new mother, it would have seemed overprotective, at the least. With their lifestyle however, it made Michael feel a lot more confident about their baby's safety. Including Sam in the ban was maybe a little bit of overkill, but that was how it went. Fiona's stubbornness was legendary.

Fi raised her chin, glaring at Sam. He held up his hands defensively and shrugged. 'Just saying. Where you gonna find a babysitter that satisfies the checklist and in-depth background investigation you'll no doubt run?'

'I'm sure Michael's mother would be happy to look after Theo from time to time.' Fi's voice was crisp, and Michael looked up sharply.

'No way. She smokes constantly.' His protest was firm, although he kept his voice low to keep from startling the infant on his lap.

'I'll have a talk with her,' said Fiona breezily. 'I'm sure she'll be able to manage to not smoke around Theo.'

Michael stared at her for a long moment before realising that he'd lost the argument before he'd started it. Sam chuckled. 'Does this mean I can hold him now?'

'No,' replied Fi flatly. Michael smirked at him and said nothing. Served Sam right for not backing him up on the last point.

So that was how, the next week, Michael found himself doing surveillance in a hot car with Fiona dozing next to him. The dressings on the wounds in his back were itching as he sweated and there was a fly in the car that wouldn't shut up. On the plus side, he'd never seen his mother so happy as to be asked to babysit for them.

They'd been watching the same building for four hours now, waiting for their mark to reappear. His turn to sleep had lasted five minutes, until Fi got bored again and poked him awake. He'd have minded less if she hadn't aimed for the bullet wound in his shoulder. Now she was sleeping peacefully and he was imagining all the things that could be going wrong at his mother's house.

Luckily, before he got as far as her house catching on fire, the mark appeared, carrying a package. 'Wake up, Fi,' Michael said in a calm voice. Fi snorted and shook herself awake.

'The guy just came out.'

'Took his time,' yawned Fi, squinting across the road. 'I'll see you back at the loft,' she told him before she hopped out of the car. Michael nodded although she couldn't see him and watched her cross the road with complete disregard for road-rules or common sense. He was smiling, and he wasn't quite sure why.

* * *

TBC, possibly. See author's note above.


	5. Chapter 5

**Progeny- Chapter 5**

Feeling a little bit bad. Threatening to stop writing doubled the review count on this one... Problem is, term just started, so real life may interfere despite all your kind words. Thank you so much though, everyone. It's really useful to know exactly what it is about the story that people are enjoying, and what they feel needs improving. I'm going to do my utmost to keep it going.

* * *

'Oh he's just been an absolute darling Michael,' Madeline assured him as she handed Theo over. Michael gave him a subtle sniff and found he'd been freshly changed. Fiona leaned over his shoulder and tickled Theo under the chin.

''as 'oo been a good boy then?' she cooed at him. He giggled and kicked his chubby baby legs. Michael raised his eyes to the ceiling and decided that he was teaching his son karate as soon as he could walk. Otherwise, between his mother and Fi, the boy would be safely wrapped in a bubble for the entirety of his adult life.

'And I didn't smoke a single cigarette whilst he was here, just so you know, Michael,' Madeline said with a glint in her eye.

'Thanks, mom,' he replied dutifully.

'Theo could help you quit,' pointed out Fiona. She reached over and lifted him out of Michael's arms then gave him a hug. Arms free, Michael took the baby bag off Madeline.

'Any time you two need a baby-sitter, give me a call,' she told them firmly. 'Except Wednesday evenings- that's poker night.'

'We will,' Fi assured her. 'Now, it's past your bedtime, little man. Off we go. Say goodbye to grandma.' She picked up his hand and waved it at Madeline. Michael beat a hasty retreat to save his sanity. Fi followed at a more sedate pace and strapped Theo into the baby seat before getting in herself. 'See?' she challenged Michael. 'That worked fine.'

'It did,' he agreed, checking his rear-view mirror. He had a feeling that Fi would be tagging along on a lot more jobs after this.

**oo00OO00oo**

It seemed the date that Carla had made Fiona miss got re-scheduled. Fiona purposefully turned up with the guy when Michael called her a few days later.

'How is he going to help as backup?' he asked in a low voice, locking stares with Fi. The boyfriend was paying the taxi driver and out of hearing range.

Fi shrugged innocently. 'We were out for lunch. I could hardly just leave him halfway through. And he's so sweet Michael. You'll really like him.'

The boyfriend turned up at that point so all Michael could respond with was subtle glaring in Fi's direction.

'Michael,' started Fi pleasantly. 'This is David.'

David had one of those firm, honest handshakes that set Michael's teeth on edge. 'Nice to meet you, Michael.'

Michael nodded, smiling a smile that said nothing of the sort. 'Do you mind if I borrow Fi for a moment, David? An issue's come up with work.'

'Sure, no worries, buddy,' agreed David amiably. After a moment, when it became evident he wasn't going anywhere, Michael turned and walked down the street a little. Fiona skipped after him.

'Is something the matter, Michael?' she asked sweetly as he strode away.

'I need a second insider for a reverse con,' he told her once they were out of hearing range. 'Sam's already met the group, so he can't do it.'

'What's the job?' Fiona questioned, her tone non-committal. She turned around and gave a little wave to the boyfriend, who was amicably chatting with a passerby.

'Card sharks,' replied Michael, ignoring the exchange. 'Took a lot of money off a kid that didn't know when to quit.'

'Fairly gambled, fairly lost,' she said dismissively. 'Besides, small fish, Michael. Why are you even thinking about taking this job?'

Michael didn't let the faint smile on his face change in any way. Out of habit, he talked through his teeth in a way that prevented lip-reading. 'He wasn't playing fair. His cronies hustled the kid to keep playing when he wanted to back out. Money's not the issue. They took his pocket watch off him as security.'

'And let me guess,' filled in Fiona dryly. 'Family heirloom that he wasn't meant to be wearing?'

'The venue moves every few nights. The watch will be fenced by the time the police track them down.'

She cocked her head on one side and examined him in that way of hers. He scanned the surroundings rather than looking at her. 'All right,' she sighed finally, as though granting him a great favour. 'You owe me dinner though. Where's this lot picking up their marks?'

'Teslers bar, 8pm. Wear something nice,' he replied, locking eyes with her for a moment. She shot him back a challenge with her glare that tingled down his spine. His grin became more genuine and he walked off, leaving her to her new boyfriend.

**oo00OO00oo**

Michael dropped Theo off at his mother's shortly after 8pm and made his way over to the last known hunting-ground of the card ring. It took him a while to find Fi in the crowded club. She was on the dance floor, moving in the sea of sweaty bodies like a dazzling flame. Her belly had shrunk rapidly after the birth, although she complained about having to buy a whole new set of bras. Michael couldn't say he honestly minded. He watched her, hypnotised for long minutes. It took the intrusion of an unwelcome thought to break his focused stare; w_onder what she told David about where she was this evening._

Twisting his mouth, he fought his way to the bar and hailed the barman by slapping down a wad of cash. He'd spotted one of the card players two spots over and prayed the rat-like man noticed him. It was too damn loud in the club for any decent conversation, so he'd have to rely on his clothes and his cash to sell his story. Thankfully, the kid's family was dripping with money, which equated to a decent slush fund to play with.

Frustratingly, ratty failed to look in his direction at all whilst Michael was flashing his cash around. He just took his own round of drinks and pushed his way out of the crush at the bar, heading for a door in the back wall of the club. It looked like they hadn't shifted venues yet.

A hot body landed at the bar next to him and he looked down to discover a flushed and panting Fiona. He bought her a drink, slipped her a roll of 20s and nodded at the back door. Keeping up the pretence of being strangers, she thanked him with a coy kiss on the cheek and launched herself back into the crowd. Michael fought his way towards a booth and dropped a fistful of cash on the teenagers there to clear out.

He sat sipping his drink and lounging back against the seat for 20 minutes before anyone reappeared from the door. He shifted, getting ready to intercept when the man made his way back from the bar. It turned out to be unnecessary. He lost the mark for a few minutes in the bustle of the bar, and when he re-emerged, Fi was giggling on his arm. Michael shook his head in faint amusement and settled back down.

Once Fiona was in, it didn't take long for a man to seek him out. By that time, Michael had already managed to recruit a small crowd of fawning girls barely old enough to be drinking. The word of free drinks spread quickly. He cocked an eyebrow as the hustler slid into the booth next to a leggy brunette.

'Hey mate,' the open-faced, sandy-haired man greeted him. Michael guessed the accent to be Australian, although it was hard to tell over the thumping bass.

'Heeeeyy brother!,' slurred Michael, grinning widely. 'Look, ladies- s' a nice handsome fella for one of ya.'

'You interested in coming somewhere a little quieter to enjoy your drinks? We got entertainment and all. Your friends can come too if they like.'

'Awww, I dunno,' he drawled slowly, drawing out each vowel sound. 'I kinda like watchin' the dancing, you know.' Michael leered suggestively at the dance floor, although the bodies out there were largely an indistinguishable mass in the flashing lasers and floating mist.

The girl sitting closest to him giggled and placed a hand on his shoulder. 'Come on, it sounds fun!'

Michael met her excited gaze with a wide grin and privately wondered if she'd actually been lobotomised. 'Well then, why not? Might as well give it a try.'

The Australian smiled cheerfully, showing perfect white teeth. 'It's just through here my friend.'

Michael had to agree, the back room was certainly quieter. There was dullness in his ears as they adjusted to the more reasonable volume. Whiskey in one hand and a bimbo on the other arm, he did his best to survey the room without appearing too sharp. There were more people than he had estimated, seated around three round tables and on couches against the walls.

'Hey, poker!' exclaimed Michael loudly. 'I _love_ poker. Doncha love poker?' he asked the girl standing next to him. Her two friends had opted to stay back in the club but she had followed the possibility of free drinks. Michael noted Fi was all but in the lap of the rat-faced hustler at the central table. The guy looked like he was in heaven.

'I'll go see if you can buy into one of the games,' the sandy-haired hustler told him agreeably. 'Can I do you for anything else whilst you're back here?' he asked suggestively. 'We're all here for a good time.'

Michael guffawed a too-loud laugh. 'I like the way you roll, my man. Bring me your best whilst I investigate this table over here. You play poker, darling?''

The girl shook her head with another giggle.

'I'll teach you,' he declared, shambling over to the same table as Fi. 'Hey fellas! Mind if I buy in?'

* * *

TBC. (Um, I wrote the scene with David, then it happened in the very next ep I watched. Not plaguarism, promise.)


	6. Chapter 6

**Progeny- chapter 6**

Sorry, sorry, sorry! Here's a new chapter. Thank you so much everyone. It's the continuing trickle of reviews that instils the heavy guilt which inspires the writing.

... I have odd technique.

* * *

In record time, a place was made for him and a hand dealt. They were using cash instead of chips, making it easy to work out how much was being lost. On the downside, he had a roll of fifties and nowhere to break them. It was going to be an expensive evening. He was impressed with their set up though. It seemed they were more for fleecing people on a wide-scale than getting everything out of single targets. It made him wonder about the kid's story as to the loss of his watch.

The first round was being dealt out when his host leant over his shoulder and gave him the choice of coke, ecstasy or acid. Michael picked the pills- tablets being easiest to palm instead of taking. He let out a quiet breath of relief when his escort declined the offer. Truth was, she was probably already flying high on something.

It was unusually difficult not to watch Fi. She was directly across the table from him and fawning over her catch. He occasionally whispered this or that in her ear and she'd laugh or fondly stroke his hair. Her long, mirrored necklace flashed and sparkled even under the low lights and her slim brown wrists moved in expressive gestures. _Not a bluff,_ she signalled Michael next time he glanced up. Michael loudly raised the stakes, making a slurred lesson to his compatriot about bluffs.

After the first dozen deals, he'd worked out who on the table was in on the sting and who were marks. There were far fewer innocents than he'd originally thought. The biggest surprise was that the leggy brunette perched next to him was one of theirs. He admired her acting skills. Every time she leaned her head on his shoulder or reached over to pat his chest, she was taking a look at his cards.

With Fiona's subtle signals and the reflections off her jewellery, Michael made sure he lost just the right amount to make it seem like quite a bit more. He was stalling for time, really. This jaunt had been about reconnaissance- now he had to figure out the next play. The watch could be in a bank vault somewhere, or it already could've been traded for quick cash. In a gambling ring this size, it was difficult to tell.

Almost out of habit, he started to manipulate the game, making his biggest losses to the players with the easiest tells. A quick indication to Fiona, and she gently steered her human chair towards putting the others out of the game. Less people made things easier to control.

Michael was starting to think about getting rid of his personal card watcher when they ran into a massive bit of luck. The sandy-haired dealer who was still circling the room leaned over to check how the table was doing. Rat-face, the very man that Fiona had picked up at the bar, pulled out a shiny gold-pocket watch to check the time then waved him off. Michael tried not to stare and he could_ feel_ Fiona silently laughing at him. There went that little problem.

Deciding to sit back and enjoy himself, Michael carefully put the bimbo sitting next to him out of business. 'Buy me back in?' she asked with a pout.

'Aw, c'mon now darlin'. That wouldn't be fair to all those fine gentlemen who've already resigned. Why don't you go relax on one of those couches over there?'

She made a sulky face at him, but withdrew without further complaint. When no one was looking, Fiona cocked an eyebrow across the table at him that said 'why don't you keep her?' He returned with a quick narrowing of the eyes that were a clear message for 'concentrate on the game.'

Fiona hadn't pick-pocketed the watch yet, so he assumed she was waiting for something. Knowing Fiona, he was fairly sure what that something was. It took a lot of finesse to get money back out of a card game without being thrown out. Michael ordered another drink and set to.

He was a couple of hundred dollars into the black for the evening when Fiona finally slipped the watch out of ratty's pocket. It disappeared somewhere into the folds of her tiny dress and she stood up with an eyecatching stretch. 'Well, I have to use the ladies room,' she declared. 'I shall be right back,' she informed the hustler with a coy smile.

'You don't have to go back through the club,' he told her quietly, below the volume of the game. 'There's a toilet just through there.'

'Oh no, it's no trouble,' she assured him. 'I might go past the dancefloor on the way back,' she murmured, voice gone sexy.

'Stay,' commanded the little man, eyebrows lowering.

Michael's awareness of his surroundings skyrocketed when rat-face reached out an arm and grabbed Fiona's wrist. He was automatically summing up how the fight was going to go even before Fiona twisted the guy's fingers and punched him in the nose. Fiona never had reacted well to being manhandled. Moving fast, Michael swept his winnings off the table and into his pockets and pushed his chair back.

'Hey now, that's no way to treat a lady,' he scolded the furious-looking hustler. He deliberately began to roll his sleeves up. Just another drunken lout, looking to start a fight.

'You bitch!' swore rat-face, holding his nose with one hand. It was probably broken, the way Fiona punched.

'Sorry,' she offered with false sincerity and batted eyelashes. 'All those self-defence classes made me a little edgy, I guess.'

The whole room had silenced and was watching the proceedings. Michael counted half a dozen of the gambling ring ready to step in. It was time to make a quick exit. With a practiced heave, he overturned the poker table, sending bills and cards flying. The two remaining genuine players scrambled for their cash, but the team of card sharks went straight for Michael.

'Run,' suggested Fi, already ducking out the way of a big guy coming for her.

'Good idea,' muttered Michael, close on her heels. He threw a fist into one guy's solar plexus and tripped a second that tried to get between them and the exit out to the club. In seconds, they were through the door and wading through a sea of bodies and a wall of sound. Without needing to confer, Fiona dived into the dance floor and Michael melted into the crowd at the bar. The door burst open behind them a moment later and three burly bouncer-types stalked out.

Trying to be both unnoticeable and quick, Michael stripped off his silken blue shirt and tossed it over the back of the bar. 'Hot,' he mouthed at the barmaid. She grinned at him in his white undershirt and poured him a water. He raised it to her in salute and began to work his way towards the club's exit, staying in the thick of the crowds where possible. A quick dump of the water over his head flattened his hair, changing his appearance significantly.

Fi had done a similar conversion and met him just inside the entrance minus her jewellery and high heels. She handed him the small smooth pocket watch, warm with body heat. He grinned at her and tucked it into his pocket. 'Ready?' he mouthed.

She shrugged and rolled her eyes, then jumped up so he could catch her. Carrying Fiona in front of him with her legs tucked over his hips and her head on his shoulder, he pushed his way towards the door. Predictably, they were stopped by the bouncer.

'She's had a bit much,' Michael shouted over the music spilling out of the club, making drinking motions with his free hand. 'Just going to take her home.'

'Miss?' asked the bouncer suspiciously.

Fiona raised her head with a woozy yet cheerful smile. 'He'sh a goo' boy, ish Mik- Michaelll ish. Oh homeward bouuuund…'

The bouncer nodded ruefully at Michael and waved him on. Michael breathed out a sigh of relief and forged onwards. Behind them, one of the gambling ring's thugs burst out of the club but Michael and Fi were already receding down the street, a very different picture to the two that had fled the game minutes before.

Michael ducked into the first side alley that came along and let Fiona slip down. When she looked up at him, she had a wicked grin on her face and that gleam in her eye that never boded well.

'Fi…' started Michael warningly. He didn't get much of a chance to finish, because she stood on stockinged tip-toe and kissed him. It was always very difficult to talk through Fiona's kisses.

She was hot from the run through the club and the sweaty press of bodies as she slipped hands up his thin t-shirt. 'Mmm, Fi,' tried Michael again, pulling away just far enough. She tried to follow then pouted when he stopped her with hands on her shoulders. She settled for starting to undo his pants. 'We have to leave before they send out a slightly smarter search party,' he reminded her, reaching down to catch her nimble fingers in their task. 'People like that aren't fond of being taken for a ride.'

'Don't be so dull, Michael. They won't find us here.' She licked her lips enticingly and cocked an eyebrow at him in challenge. It took him a moment to remember what his point was.

'No, definitely not. We're only one alley away from the club. They'll never think to look here.' He gently disengaged himself and prowled back to the entrance onto the street, doing his fly back up as he did so. He heard her pad after him in her bare feet and a primal part of him warned about leaving his back exposed. It was never strictly safe to deny things to Fi when she had demanded them.

He leaned out and scanned the street. Despite the late hour, there were quite a few people milling about. They'd provide decent cover should one of the card sharks come out to do a sweep of the street. Michael led Fiona quickly down the sidewalk- just a couple that had paired up, sneaking off to find somewhere to finish the evening.

'I'm wearing holes in these stockings,' she complained, grabbing hold of his hand as they walked briskly along.

'I'll buy you a new pair,' he promised her, scanning the way up ahead. There was a yell behind them. Michael rolled his eyes to the heavens then grabbed Fiona and hefted her onto his shoulder. 'I think they discovered the missing watch,' he commented, breaking into a sprint.

'I _can_ run, you know,' Fi told him irately as she bounced along.

'I know,' he replied in his best conciliatory tone. He was looking for the right… ah, there. He darted behind a parked truck then stopped dead. The pursuers split up and circled around, moving silently.

'Where'd they go?' he heard one of them grunt. By that time, he and Fiona were already wriggling their way into the stacked furniture sitting in the back of the truck. If the muscle worked out where they'd disappeared to, the position provided a better tactical advantage for a fight.

'Check under the vehicles,' came the barked order. Voices moved away from the truck. Michael held perfectly still, listening. Fiona was stroking his thigh with the tips of her fingers. He tried very hard to ignore it. The voices started getting closer again. There was a loud banging as they broke the lock off the truck. Fairly unnecessary given that the sides were made of canvas, but that was hired muscle for you.

Michael held perfectly still behind a badly-upholstered armchair and willed the thugs to give up. 'They're not in here,' came the yell, and the door was left to swing in the breeze. He heard Fiona let out the breath she'd been holding.

'Told you- you worry too much,' she whispered.

'Better safe than sorry,' he shot back under his breath. She pinched him on the thigh then the hand withdrew. Despite himself, Michael was grinning in the darkness

* * *

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Progeny- Chapter 7**

Well. I've never had a chapter result in such icy silence once a story was up and rolling. I was going to write an epilogue but I've lost heart. I thought perhaps I better put everyone out of their misery. Here's the rest of it, dreamt up through lectures on the relative ruminal proportions of propinoate and acetate.

* * *

Fi was shadowing him closely as he unlocked the door into the loft. They'd gone back to his place because it was closer to the club and Fi had demanded somewhere to shower and change, pronto.

He stepped through the door and reached for the watch in his pocket. Fi flicked the lights on and it dangled from its golden chain between his fingers.

'It's pretty,' Fi commented offhandedly, already walking past him. He realised he had one eyebrow raised and lowered it.

'Might give the kid a quick talk on when to quit when I give it back,' Michael decided out loud.

'Listen to you, being all fatherly.' She was talking from the bathroom. She'd snagged one of his clean shirts and disappeared, although she'd failed to shut the door. Michael stared at the open doorway for a while. Very deliberately, he turned away and placed the watch on the bench. Some things were better left alone.

He pulled the wad of cash out of his pocket and counted it. Even considering the drinks, they'd made a profit tonight. That wasn't even figuring in the actual payment they'd get when he returned the prize. Nonchalantly, he put the cash on the bench next to the watch. The only people that broke into his place were other spies, and they didn't tend to be interested in valuables so much as secrets. He'd needed the money from this job though, no matter how petty the work. Between the hospital bills and baby accessories, Theo's arrival had eaten through the buffer of cash he'd managed to scrape together whilst in Miami.

The last things in his pocket were two ecstasy pills. He dug them out and couldn't help noting how innocently they nestled in the palm of his hand. He contemplated them for a moment. Having drugs on hand could be useful to plant on people who needed arresting, but that worked both ways. He let the pills rattle down the drain.

Staring contemplatively out the window, he toed off his shoes. The sun would be up in a couple of hours. He wondered how his mother had coped with having Theo overnight. He wondered how Fi had managed to go the whole night without her son. She'd never been parted with him for more than a couple of hours before. Speaking of which…

Fiona emerged from the bathroom wearing his shirt. And nothing else. He had to admit, it looked a lot better on her. He sighed internally. This probably meant it was time for some kind of talk.

'What are you giving me that look for?' she asked, mildly affronted.

'Fi…' Michael started, ordering the words in his head. 'You have a boyfriend.'

'Who, David?' she said innocently, stalking forwards until she could sprawl on his bed. She managed to lounge there in what he could only think was a very provocative position. 'Did I say he was my boyfriend? He's just a friend.'

'A _friend_. A friend that takes you on _dates,_' stated Michael, tone dubious.

'I was just trying to make you jealous, Michael,' she explained, as though it was obvious. 'Did it work?' she asked coyly.

Michael stared blankly at her for a long moment, her long brown legs stretched out on his bedcovers, toes pointed like a ballet dancer. 'Fi, you really think this is a good idea?' He leaned back against the counter, somehow feeling that the ten feet of space between them still wasn't enough. Her personal space was as big as her personality and she was somehow rubbing up against him from all the way over there. He'd always found it sexy,_ and bad, no, wrong, don't think that…_

'Is what, Michael? Being together? Helping each other out with every little thing? Having _kids_ together?'

Michael had to admit he didn't quite have an answer to that.

'Theo is going to grow up and wonder why his separated parents don't hate each other like everyone else's,' she pointed out. With a languorous yawn, she lay back on the bed, stretching her arms above her head.

'I don't want to hate you,' he said softly, sure she was focusing closely on his every word.

'Oh Michael. You really think that's what is going to happen if we actually make this thing we have official?' She propped herself up on her elbows, her gaze direct, honest, impossible to lie to...

He looked at her, looking at him from the place she had claimed on his bed. She sat up properly and was swung one leg off the side as she stared at him intently, waiting for his answer.

'No,' he admitted.

'Good,' she said with a prim nod. 'I expect at least a 20 karat diamond in the ring, and you're sleeping on the couch until that happens. Oh, and at first light I'm borrowing your car to go pick Theo up.'

Michael's face went blank for a moment as he did a speedy mental refiguring. Honestly, he'd been struggling against taking everything he'd ever wanted. As usual, Fi had put things in perspective.

With a long suffering sigh, he reached out and flicked off the light. There was a faint smile on her face just visible in the darkness as he stalked forwards, challenge crackling between them.

'I think I'll be a spring bride,' Fi decided out loud, her silhouette flopping back against the pillows. Michael reached the bed, but he didn't stop. Fiona watched him with a sparkle in her eye as he knelt on the bed and held himself over her with his hands. Ever so gently, he leant down and continued the kiss he'd interrupted back at the club. Fi tilted her chin up and captured his lips more fully, her hands unashamedly reclaiming their former territory at the hem of his shirt.

His mouth moved from her lips to her ear to her delectable collarbones. 'Have I mentioned I love your collarbones?' he mumbled against her skin. She laughed and tugged on his hair. Michael paused and let out a wide yawn.

'Well, it's been a long night, and I got work in the morning honey…' With a lumbering groan, he rolled onto the bed beside her and gathered her in his arms. A quick wriggle and he was all snuggled up and ready for sleep. There was a moment's silence.

Then; 'Michael, I have not had sex since slightly after Theo came into being. If you don't perform, right now, I will make sure you never can again.'

'But you wanna get married, right?' he asked in mock confusion. The blue neon lights of the club below them shone through the window and illuminated her narrowed eyes. 'We gotta practice for that. And, uh… I got a headache.' He grinned at her, white teeth by night light. She punched him in the shoulder then kissed him.

The End

* * *

If you want me, I'll be trolling posts written on animal activist forums written by people that have never left the city. It always cheers me up.


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